


Chemistry

by crimsonwinter



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Boy Love, Chemistry, Drarry, Grinding, Harry and Draco, M/M, NSFW, Romantic Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonwinter/pseuds/crimsonwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Harry adventure on into new sensations, including, but not limited to, love and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The paintings yawned as Harry shuffled through the halls, returning from visiting his parents in the mirror of Erised. It was his sixth year, around Christmas, and he was not looking forward to his Potions essay being due in two days.

He clutched his books to his firm, young chest with one strong arm and slid the invisibility cloak down his shoulder with the other.

He jokingly thought of seeing his prick rival Malfoy on his way back to the common room, and his stomach confusingly flipped.

Harry muttered, "It'd be funny if I ran into h-" SMACK!

"My leg!" The blonde boy whined as he clutched his ankle amongst Harry's strewn books.  
Harry was confounded as he picked himself up off the ground, his growing knees creaking as his tall figure rose above Draco.

"Who is that?" Draco sneered as he rose his silver blue eyes to the dark figure standing above him. His insides churned strangely when his gaze fell upon the shaggy haired sixth-year with the famous scar.

"Potter…" he sputtered as he rose to Harry's level, the pain in his leg mysteriously disappearing.

"You'll pay for that!" Draco and Harry said in unison, Harry with a smirk and Draco with a grimace.

Harry, only two inches taller than Draco, stood before the Slytherin. His smirk faded and he realized that his books were scattered all over the hallway.

He mouthed, "My books!" as he rushed to pick them up, Draco's eyes curiously darting to his backside as he bent over.

Draco, not quite feeling in the mood to fight with this boy, decided to interrogate him instead.

"Were you coming from the mirror of Erised?" He asked, slumping against the walls, folding his arms, and blowing the bangs out of his eyes. He shifted when Harry didn't respond and he moved his left hand up to his tight, slender jawline.

"How did you…" Harry began, stumbling towards him with his books and now crumpled invisibility cloak. As soon as he felt Draco's presence within feet of him, to Harry's disgust, his forehead heated under his shaggy bangs.

"Of course I know about the mirror. Why wouldn't I?" Draco spoke with cockiness. Harry hated it. He continued, "Do you see your parents, Potter?"  
Harry clutched his books tighter.

Draco was amused at Harry's pink cheeks, barely recognizable under the yellow hallway light.

"And after hours? Shame on you… Hey, why did you bring books if you were visiting old mum n' pop?" Draco grinned a dazzling, white, slimy smile, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. He brushed the breath away and regained his voice. He didn't feel like coming up with a BS excuse, so he decided to come out with it.

"Mrs. Weasley sent me some wizard fables as an early Christmas present and I visit… them… after dark and read to them. Because I didn't have any time to… before…"

Harry's face burned and he wished he was under the limp cloak that was resting in the crease of his arm.

Draco's face heated as well and muscles tightened. Harry's eyes downcast towards his and Malfoy's shoes. Something strange was happening to him… Why was he opening up to Malfoy? He loathed him!

The Slytherin looked at the Gryffindor and wondered why he was opening up to him. Didn't Harry hate him? Not that Malfoy gave him a reason not to.

Harry was exhausted but pleased from his encounter with his parents, so he set the books on the ground and slumped against the wall beside Draco. Draco shifted uncomfortably but didn't scoot away.

Harry sighed, a small sound of masculinity escaping his lips. Draco's loin twitched.

He resisted the urge to shout obscenities at himself for his disgusting behavior, but Harry seemed to want to speak again.

"I never got stories told to me… Y'know?"

Harry was in deep now. There was no going back. He was conversing with Draco Malfoy in the Hallway, after hours in late December. He was getting lonely, "companion" wise, and Ron and Hermione's drama just got him down. He'd heard some rumors about Snape that cheered him up, but other from his visits to James and Lily, Harry really had nobody outside of his trio to talk to.

Draco was astounded. He was Harry's rival! Harry, strangely, wasn't his, he just liked to torture him. But here he was, opening up to him. Draco felt the need to turn around so his torso was pressed up against the wall. He loathed himself for his actions and thoughts about Harry Potter as the young boy sighed and occasionally looked at him from under his glasses. Draco's eyes met Harry's, the stormy grey-blue mixing with Lily's dark forest green.

Draco thought of pouncing on Harry, but he dismissed the horrendous thought and just recrossed his legs, relieving some of the pressure.

Harry noticed this action, one he did quite a bit, and he felt his face flush again. His scar pounded. He changed the subject of his thoughts and he asked, "Why are you here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy was snapped out of his visions of steaming glasses and chiseled torsos and said, "I roam around a lot. I get lonely and I like to visit the paintings."

Draco caught himself. Did he just say he was lonely?

Harry inwardly gasped. Did he just say he was lonely?

Harry felt his heart swell and his groin tighten, which he instinctively tried to hide beneath his robes.

Harry cleared his throat and lifted himself off the wall. "I can see that," he said evilly, before continuing, "Well, I guess I should start heading back to the common room…"

Draco's heart darkened at the thought of not feeling the orphan boy's presence near him and he tried to get out of Harry's way by taking his lean, strong body off the wall.

Harry hadn't planned to go behind him, although the thought of Draco's behind was distracting.

They slammed bodies once again, but this time, Draco's leg trapped Harry from embarrassingly and quickly leaving the vicinity.

Harry was speechless, his knuckles whitening as he almost broke Molly Weasley's books under his tight grasp.

He knew that he was no escaping, Draco was going to punch him for being a pansy and for leaving. His loins pulsed when his brain said Malfoy's name.

Draco was heatedly staring at the boy who he tortured for six years, the boy who was always more popular than him, the boy with the incredible lips….

Harry's entire being was engulfed in embarrassed flames as he turned to look to Draco, readying himself for a fist to the face. He was met instead by dark, husky eyes and two pink cheeks.

"D…" Harry couldn't find his words as Draco knocked Mrs. Weasley's present out of Harry's arms with little difficulty. Draco grabbed Harry's biceps which he felt tense at his touch, causing the butterflies in the pit of his stomach to flutter with much more intensity.

Harry braced himself to hit the cold ground, but Draco just fervently stared at him.

Harry was afraid, but something told him he wasn't going to be pushed or shoved…

Draco spun Harry towards him, their faces so close now that Draco's hot breath steamed Potter's glasses.

"You'll pay for that… Potter…" Draco cooed huskily, pursing his pale, plump lips as he pronounced Harry's last name.

Draco's eyes gleamed and searched Harry's flushed, angry, and confused face. His slightly freckled nose, his dark, prominent eyebrows, his mussed hair, his tough, pink scar, his strong stare and his jawline that you could cut glass on.

Harry's mind was full of colors as he stared at Draco, who's eyes were searching every nook and cranny of his face. Harry tensed and gasped at Draco's forceful grasp on his arms, and shuddered when Draco's leg moved from it's position of entrapment and into the space between Harry's.

Harry's mind left his body as he felt Draco's round, soft lips crash into his neck. Harry was not disgusted. Harry was not angry. Harry was shocked yet pleased.

Draco's lips caressed Harry's tight skin and he planted kisses all long his neck and jaw. Harry shuddered at the contact and felt himself press his legs together in pleasure as his manhood tried to burst his seams. His built up pressure of longing and denial shook and vibrated as it came in contact with another hard thing.

Harry's hands wandered from his sides up to Draco's bony boy hips. Draco returned his affections at Harry's strong member and touch by releasing Harry's arms and wrapping them around his middle.

Harry was tight and strong, his robes doing less than covering his hard body. Draco, still planting kisses along Harry's neck, flicked his tongue at Harry's ear and instinctively continued when he heard a low, manly grumble come from Harry's throat.

The blonde teenage boy remembered the book he had stolen from his father's study and he used the technique he had learned when he was 11 now, on Harry's neck.

Harry pushed himself harder into Draco's straining member as he felt the skin of his neck being sucked roughly by Draco. The thought of Draco leaving a mark on Harry made him insane with lust and he attempted to huskily cry out, "Yes."

Draco's center dropped at Harry's words of consent as he felt Harry's hands travel up from his hips and towards his neck. Draco thrusted forward, unable to stop his manhood from crying out.

Draco gave Harry two more hickies until he couldn't resist his lips any longer. Harry accepted Draco's wet, soft mouth on his with delight, and the boys' lips crashed together.

Harry had taken his hands off Draco's hot neck and carefully trailed them down a tight line of muscle underneath Draco's unrobed, white shirt. Draco's forearms were exposed, as was his green tie, and Harry slipped his hand lower until he could feel Draco shiver with the close contact.

Draco's hands slid around Harry's shoulders and pushed his robes off, then he caressed the muscles and bones on Harry's back and trailed down to his backside.

He squeezed Harry's round, firm cheek as Harry plunged his hand into Draco's pants.

Draco immediately felt he was about to achieve the point of no return once he felt Harry's slender fingers come in contact with his soft foreskin, but he remembered the book that had said to control, and his raging lust subsided to a steady pounding.

Harry's other hand unbuckled and unzipped Draco's pants and he unlocked his lips from his to bite Draco's ear and lick his jaw. In a low growl, finally accepting what he was doing, Harry said, "What if someone…?"

Draco pulled back and locked eyes with Harry. He slid down, painfully accepting that Harry's hand was no longer there, and he grabbed the invisibility cloak which was lying beside the books.

He took both his sweaty hands and laid it over Harry's head and back. With his other hand, he took his wand out and magicked the corners and hood of the cloak to the stone wall behind them.

They had an invisibility shield, almost like a two man tent. The cloak was six inches from the ground, since they were hunched in pleasure, and Draco levitated the small bench beside them to cover their feet and legs as they stretched out.

He put his wand back into his pocket and returned to divulging in Harry's hot, wet cavity. Harry responded happily and continued to pull down Draco's undershorts.

Draco's member excitedly sprang out, and without a second thought, Harry grabbed it. It was hard and hot, with a soft skin, just like his own… But Draco's felt so incredible in his own hands. Draco responded by grabbing Harry's shirt again, pulling it up and out of his pants. He unbuttoned Harry's trousers as well before he reached around Harry's flat stomach and back and squeezed his backside again.

With Harry's other hand, he pulled his own friend out and rubbed the clear liquid that had already seeped from the tip onto his fingers.

He pulled back and stuffed his wet fingers into Draco's hot mouth, exciting a groan from the blonde boy. Draco's knees weakened as he tasted the salty precum of Harry's sweetness.

Draco shoved his pelvis forward and into Harry's, as he pulled Harry's hips into his.

Their members touched, both boys hissing in pleasure. Draco grabbed both of their cocks and squeezed them together, nearly pushing himself over the edge. He wondered how his companion was holding it together.

Harry croaked inwardly and almost came, but he composed himself. He wanted this bad, masculine, rule-breaking pleasure to last longer.

Harry and Draco rocked back and forth into each other, pushing together, running their fingers through the other's hair, up the other's ab muscles, down their backsides and biting each other's necks and jaws.

Harry's lips were swollen, his whole body was hot, and his eyes were misty.

Draco's head pounded, his heart cried, and his groin thrusted as he squeezed Harry's hard, silky member into his.

Draco began to smile as he realized he had given into Harry, and he wanted to ask Harry if he felt the same.

All rational thoughts gone, Draco sputtered out in between long, wet kisses, "Did you want …this?"

Harry's body shook and more clear liquid escaped him, which mixed with Draco's, and he huskily responded with a passionate "Yes."

Draco believed that he and Harry would be able to do this more, as if their squeezing, panting, and touching wasn't enough in this moment. He asked him, again, between groans, and Harry agreed to continue to "hook up," as the students called it.

They continued to enjoy one another's touch for seven more minutes, gradually the pressure building up from the base of their groins to the tips of their manhoods.

Harry pressed his forehead against the wall, the cloak still covering them, and his cheek touched Draco's.

Draco knew this act of lurching forward was a sign that Harry was nearing his release, and Draco began to press, rock, and pump them together harder.

Malfoy took Harry's hands, which were pressed against the stone, and put them in his mouth, slobbering them up before he put Harry's fingers to his bud.

They swayed, faster, faster, pushing into the stone wall, the yellow torchlight of Hogwart's hallway illuminating their pleasured features.

As the sparks came closer and closer, Harry began to groan loudly, and Draco gasped. Behind grunts and moans, he heard footsteps. Harry heard them as well and stifled, as best he could, his husky boy moans and attraction for the green, white, and black clad boy.

The footsteps got closer, and in rhythm with the boy's swaying, they increased in pace and sound.

Draco and Harry couldn't resist the other boy any longer, and their lips crashed into the others once again, somewhat stifling their moans.

They shook and vibrated in an explosion of release and both boys shot hot, white semen on the other boy's abs.

Their prolonged moans in each other's mouths created a ghoulish, almost ghostlike sound, and right as Snape walked past the sacred stone wall of sexual encounter, he heard such a sound.

Grumbling, he said, "Must be another one of Nearly Headless Nick's parties, that foolish ghoul."

The two boys panted as Snape disappeared, resting their bodies on each other's, smiling and kissing softly as the dawn of what they just did hit them, and another spark of lust shot through their sticky manhoods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2

Three weeks. Roughly twenty days since Harry and Draco had collapsed onto each other on the stone wall.

After their lust fest, Draco walked Harry to the Fat Lady portrait and blushingly hugged him goodnight.

In the morning, Draco would dart his eyes away when Harry met his gaze, as well as disappearing from the courtyard when Harry and his friends entered the vicinity.

Harry hadn't told anyone. Not Ron, not Hermione, not even Hedwig. Saying the words out loud would make them so much more terrifying.

He… Draco…?

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table as he slowly and numbly ate his breakfast pastry. Ron and Hermione had asked him quite a few times what the matter was, but any excuse he gave satisfied them as they went back to quarreling or flaring with envy.

The meal was magicked away and Harry finally lifted his eyes to the Slytherin table, where Draco was already staring at him, angrily.

Harry's heart jumped. Draco darted his eyes away, a light pink staining his cheeks. He must have remembered. The thought of wondering what Draco felt sent a shock straight to Harry's groin, and he once again had to excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of business.

After he finished the meager, nothing-compared-to-that-one-night session, he recalled his thoughts that he thought when he lie in bed, awake, after Draco walked him to the dorm.

His mind had been spinning, his shirt and skin still sticky, the smell of sweat and sex in his hair. The only other things he thought of besides the pleasurable act was the way his body completely gave in, how Draco felt right, all those times his stomach flipped and he didn't know why, and the way Draco stared at him so huskily.

Harry couldn't stop attempting to relive the pleasure by himself since then.

 

Draco stormed away from the table as soon as Dumbledore had spoken and all students were dismissed. 

He rushed around the corner and let out the breath he was holding. He had a few seconds before the other students caught up with him, so he turned his watering eyes to the stone ceiling and beat the heel of his hands into his temples.

The crowd of students flooded in and Draco pretended to brush his bangs away while he wiped his stinging eyes.

Draco couldn't bear himself. After he had walked Harry to the entrance of the common room, he strut down the halls with a smug smile as he floated into bed and fell asleep, completely content.

In the morning, he awoke with a jolt, cold sweat forming under his brows, the dawn of what he did and how he acted crashing like a wave upon him. 

Harry?! The boy who lived?! The boy whose neck he marked?!

Luckily, it was winter, and Harry's red and gold scarf proved quite useful. He hadn't worn it since his younger years, and Draco's heart leapt when he saw him wear it in the courtyard the next day.

Draco spotted the black haired boy and quickly darted around the corner, heart pounding, tears forming in his eyes.

He'd been counting the days since it happened, each one full of anger, resentment, confusion, denial, and memories. 

Why did his heart twitch when he remembered his eyes? Why did his stomach lurch when he could still feel the soft skin of Harry's shaft pressed against his? Why did he tear up whenever Harry was near?

Draco questioned himself and punished himself every day since then. Now, he was walking solemnly down the hall, feeling completely alone as the chattering Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and fellow Slytherins joyfully surrounded him.

Christmas had come and passed, presents opened, smiles smiled… Yet both boys could only think of the other. What it would have been like to give one another presents… besides the orgasms they already exchanged.

Harry didn't understand what he felt, but he accepted it anyway. Sure, it was Draco, but he saw a side of him he'd thought he'd never see: shy, hurt, ashamed even. Harry knew what had happened felt good, and although his stomach didn't drop when he thought of Cho, Hermione, or Ginny, he knew what he was feeling was more than lust. Maybe even attraction. 

Harry was upset that Draco hadn't talked to him, or that they hadn't tried anything again. He was even hurt that he didn't see Draco snaking his grey eyes towards him, about to deal an offensive blow.

Harry accepted that he liked what Draco did to him, and he thought his pain was just missing the sexual feelings they had shared. Harry was oblivious that it might be more than a lustful attraction.

Draco, on the other hand, was completely aware. He knew why his stomach quivered, why his veins leaped, why his brow sweat around him. 

He liked him. 

Draco had thought this jokingly ever since he met Harry, teased him, bullied him, hated him. Then, once Harry's body matured and he became lean, muscular, and tall, Draco found himself counting the seconds until he could be near him again.

His heart was fully attracted to Harry, while his brain rejected it. He hated himself, what Harry was doing to him. He was disgusted with himself.

He couldn't stand to be around that foolishly handsome boy.

He hated it. 

But he didn't hate Harry. Not like he said he had before. He was just covering up the strange tingling sensation, the butterflies, the fire in his loins.

Draco was furious with himself and even more so that he wanted to kiss him and touch him and lay with him and lay on him.

Draco and Harry both made in back to their dorms, collapsed on their beds, and thought of the other. 

Harry, lusting for a pleasurable feeling, and Draco, rejecting an emotional one.


	3. Chapter 3

Later that day, after tiresome classes, loud, squabbling breaks, and another fight between Hermione and Ron, Harry decided to stay behind in Potions to work on an assignment.

Hermione obviously wasn't going to help him on this one, since she was crying again.

It wasn't that Harry was insensitive towards his best friends' feelings, but after he was snarked at the first time he tried to help, he left them to quarrel by themselves.

Harry scribbled down which ingredients he needed… Carp scales, thyme, and bogart's mist. Snape had permitted him to stay behind and catch up since he legitimately seemed to want to do the work. Snape left him along after snarling a threat of, "If you touch anything… Break anything… I'll take more than points away from you."

It had seemed like Snape was distant lately, as if there was only half of him, which proved useful to Harry, since his sixth year had really kicked it up a few notches pertaining to studies.

Fifteen minutes or so passed when Harry heard the door to the echoing classroom creak open, and Harry felt a chill on the back of his neck when he heard a gasp directed towards his hunched figure at the head of the classroom.

Draco stared at the back of Harry's shaggy haired head, certain that it was him. He knew that scent of dust, straw, and fire. 

He gasped audibly and immediately smacked himself for being caught. Harry turned around and swallowed with difficulty when he met the eyes of his attraction.

The Slytherin's pale hair and grey-blue eyes met the famous wizard's black, tangled mop and forest greengaze. Both boys' cheeks tinted pink and they stuttered.

Luckily, Malfoy found his voice and sputtered out a cruel, "Didn't get enough time crying over your parents during class, Potter?"

Harry mentally sighed in relief. Draco was back to petty insults, which meant what happened between them no longer affected him, and maybe would even let it happen again - if he was foolish enough.

Draco sat down in the row behind him. Harry's heart skipped a beat at the thought of himself being that chair.

"Not in the slightest," Harry scoffed. 

The two boys had discreetly positioned themselves so they could throw insults at one another without having to strain their necks or turn their gaze. Draco continued.

"Then I s'pose it makes sense that you crawled off alone, into an empty classroom, to whine."

"Basically."

"Or was it that the smell of Professor Snape wasn't enough for you during class, so you had to come back and bask in it s'more?"

"Oh, that must be it." Harry locked his eyes on Draco's.

"Where's your girlfriend? The mudblood?"

At this, Harry's nose flared, and he shot back, "She's not my girlfriend."  
Catching himself getting stuck on the technicality of the insult, he backed up his friend as so, "…A-and she's not a mudblood, either."

Draco, pleased by the cruelty in his voice as he declared he and Hermione weren't a couple, returned with, "Then I guess you're queer for that Weasley."  
He sputtered out the word queer with so much hate, it blasted Harry in the face and made his coil snap.

"Not for Ron, he's my best friend!" Harry stopped short. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that he wasn't a queer… But instead, he made it out to be that Ron wasn't the guy for him.

The blonde boy hid his surprise and contentment at Harry's near-confession with an evil chuckle. "If it isn't the ginger, then who is it? … Don't think you're above this, Potter. I know you're just a worthless, queer, orphan."

Draco's heart pounded as he snarled the last words. He lied. This hate was aimed at himself, and the look of pain beyond that of the words he'd spoken shot a course of agony straight through Malfoy's chest. It was as if Harry was hurt because even after what happened with them, Draco still saw him as worthless.

Harry's hope sank. Draco was disgusted with him. He was ashamed of himself for touching him, and now it'd never happen again. Draco never found him sexy, it was probably a love potion or a charm. A mistake. A fluke. Draco didn't see him that way. Harry couldn't respond or make any words, so he turned back around to hide his misty glasses and continued to draw arrows from the procedure of the lab to the materials.

Draco's eyebrows creased in disappointment as he saw the robes on Harry's back turn to him now, rather than his stunningly handsome face. He thought of touching Harry, telling him he didn't "mean" it, although that form of apology was inhumane and ridiculous.

There was a long silence, filed only by the rustling of parchment and a squeak of a chair or bench.

Harry wanted to get up and leave. Draco wanted him to stay. The awkward silence continued until Harry couldn't bear smelling Draco's minty, cool, almost peppery scent any longer. He wiped his eyes and got up to leave.

Draco, feeling his stomach drop as Harry approached him, didn't look up at him. If h e had, he would have seen misty glasses and a bitten, swollen lip from Harry's own form of self deprecation.

Malfoy stood up quickly after Harry passed, scraping the furniture on the ground.

Draco wanted to push him, beat him, scream at him for making him feel that way, but instead he only watched as the boy shuffled out of the classroom.

A few minutes later, Draco solemnly left as well, his mind racing too fast to work on any of his Potions classwork.

Number of encounters since incident: one.  
Number of boys that felt regret, hurt, anger, and confusion: two.

And although Harry and Draco were too tangled up in their own messy thoughts to straighten any truth out, they hoped this conversation wouldn't be the last.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco scrambled out of the potions classroom, quickening his pace as soon as he turned the corner. His heart raced, his cheeks flushed, his legs pulsed as he shot down the hallways and flew past the paintings and back to his own bed in the Slytherin dormitory.

Once he had moved the heavy door, flustered, he clambered through the dark green and silver common room and into the bedroom. He sunk down on his mattress and let his silver bangs flop into his eyes. He pounded his head, scratched at his cheeks, and pressed the heels of his hands into his brows. 

He was so rude to Harry. He snarled, insulted, and spat a sharp tone at him. Draco could only imagine Harry's hurt eyes as he turned away from him… His gaze glinting at more than the pain of being a victim. He could almost hear Harry's dark, low voice growling it out, "But what about what happened between us?"

Harry had never said it out loud, but it raced through his mind every second of every hour.

The black haired boy walked calmly down the hall, sighing at the fact that his close encounter with his… fling… had left him with lustful longing. He thought of the thickness and solid nature of Draco's…  
He rounded the corner and continued up the great staircase and into his own common room. He greeted the fat lady and pushed his way past Ginny, who, with curious eyes, watched him sulk up into the boy's dorms where Harry's best friend Ron was practicing spells.

"Hello, mate." Ron said, smiling, as he waved his wand with a flick of his wrist and his bedside clock transfigured into a teacup.

"Hello…" Harry croaked out. He noticed that a seedling in a pot was beside the teacup-clock. He didn't ask.

"What'sa matter?" Ron set the wand beside the plant and turned himself to face Harry.

Potter set his books down in the corner of the messy room and sat down on his own bed. He wanted to tell Ron everything, to tell him that he was sexually attracted to Draco Malfoy. 

Harry winced, even saying those words in his head sounded ridiculous.

Ron stared at him with big eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips. Harry lied and said he was tired from finishing up his lab and quickly changed the subject to why Ron was so happy.

"It's 'cos Hermione was pretty great today, actually!" Ron crossed his long legs and pulled them up onto the bed.

Harry smiled half-heartedly. Good old Ron, completely oblivious to his feelings. As was Harry.

"Oh?" Harry rested his shaggy head on his pillow and closed his eyes, a sign to Ron which meant, I'm still listening, but I'm going to rest my eyes.

"Yeah! I mean, as much as we fight 'n all, she's actually pretty good some days. I mean," Ron hesitated, and Harry nodded from his near-sleeping state.

"She's makes me so weird sometimes, y'know?" Ron continued as he lay back as well. "One day, she's bickering at me about Crookshank's hair being wherever it bloody well pleases, he's a cat and he's allowed to shed and I shouldn't complain… but then the next day she avoids my eyes when I say something nice and sometimes even giggles when I stare at her for too long during dinner."

Harry grinned at the thought of Ron gazing at Hermione lovingly while a piece of Christmas ham hung out of the corner of his mouth.

"But I can't help it sometimes! She's really pretty…" Ron shifted uncomfortably in bed. Harry told him to continue, and that he was listening.

"I mean, she's always been pretty, we both know that… But last year and this year… She's gotten all… Beautiful… 'n stuff. And I just want to look at her all the time! I want to count the freckles on her nose and watch as her eyebrows dart up when I say something stupid. And it's not like it's just me, either. Sometimes, when we're arguing, she'll get this tiny little smile and then quickly push it away. And I wonder what's in that smile, y'know? Does she see me like I see her?"

Harry's eyes snapped open at his words, understanding exactly what he felt because of his complications with Draco. He wanted to say something, but how? 

"Are you saying you like her?" Harry said softly, as to hide his excitement over his brilliant plan.

"Of course! I've always liked her!" Ron rolled onto his side and stared at Harry from his bed.

"Bloody well time," Harry snickered. "I know what you mean though, about the smile thing."

Dean walked in sleepily as Harry spoke and fell face first onto his bed, his teenage legs hanging over the side, his shoes slipping off and landing with a soft thump on the Gryffindor dorm carpet.

Harry silently cleared his throat. Now he had a another person in the room to hear his lie, even if Dean was snoring loudly and probably couldn't hear Flitwick's chorus if they were singing carols in the bed next to him.

"You do?"

"Yeah, see. I… think I like this girl in a sort of… physical way… But I don't know if she feels the same. I don't know if she remembers …it… like I do, or if she thinks it was a mistake."  
Ron's eyes widened.

"You didn't tell me this!" He lowered his voice as he heard Dean cough-snort and resume snoring. "When did this happen?"

"Roughly a month ago… I didn't tell you because of your previous Hermione thing… And to be honest, I'd rather not confess the name of this …girl… until I've gotten things sorted out a little more." Ron nodded. "Like I was saying, when it happened I was shocked but pleasantly so, and I really liked it. And then after the night ended," he dropped his voice, "I felt all giddy and excited inside. But then when I see her, it's like she hates me and herself for what happened. And she only ever really talks to me in the form of petty insults."

Harry sighed, satisfied with his lie. Hopefully, Ron would have some advice for him.

Ron chuckled as he let his sappiness seep out of his red hair, "I know we don't always talk about our problems and stuff a lot, especially not at night when Dean's drooling onto his covers, but I do like when we do and I'll try and give you my input on your situation as best I can with my newfound knowledge… It took Hermione and I a while to sort of work things out. We're not a couple, by any means, but I do know that we aren't just best friends either. And I think you should attempt to talk about what happened with this girl, because she might be gone. She might find another Harry Potter, as hard as that is!"

Harry smiled. He rejoiced internally at he and Ron's bonding.

"You said you just liked her physically… But here you are, more excited and flustered over this girl than you were over Cho Chang. That must mean something." 

Ron rolled over.

"Good talk mate, now I'm gonna get some rest."

"Thanks, Ron." Ron's red head bounced in acknowledgement. 

Harry took in what Ron had said. He should confront Draco, ask about what happened.

Not tomorrow, not in ten days, not in a month.

Now.

**************************************************************************************

Harry hurried down the hall, passed the stonewall of sexual encounters, and down to the Slytherin common room. 

His heart raced at the thought of both getting caught by a Slytherin or a teacher, and for confronting Draco. He had a feeling Draco wasn't asleep, since the hour of their first encounter was during the same time of night.

The two boys both had an affinity for hiding around corners. Harry did so, until he was certain that no Slytherins would come in or out for just enough time he needed. 

He had thought about walking in an confronting him, even if it was against the rules, but he later decided that sending a handwritten note in would be safer.

Harry used his father's wit to determine that if any of the other Syltherins picked up the note, it needed to be as unsuspicious as possible.

"Malfoy, let's settle this once and for all. Find me, fight me, fear me." Harry had drawn a lightning bolt as a signature and purposely made it extremely cheesy so the other Slytherins would laugh about it and tell Draco. Harry knew that Draco would understand what it meant. If he didn't, then he'd force himself to forget his lustful attraction and move on.

He slipped it through the crack of the door, careful not to disturb any ghosts wandering about.

Potter left on padded feet, quickly.

******************************************************************************************

Draco couldn't sleep. Images of green eyes and soft lips and black bangs played over and over in his mind until it physically hurt his stomach from clenching too hard at the thought. Harry must hate him now. He lost the one person who made him feel… wonderful…

Draco heard shuffling about in the common room, and a few drunken giggles. He decided that sleep had escaped him for too long, so he got up and followed the hushed laughter.

It was two older Slytherins, a boy and a girl, huddled together by one of the various snake carvings, holding a white piece of paper and snickering.

"Malfoy!" The boy slurred. "Just the person who ought to see this." The two figures sat drowsily in the macabre, serpent decorated common room.

Malfoy's heart contracted as he saw from afar a lightning bolt in black ink on the parchment the seventh year was clutching in his free hand. The other was hidden beneath the folds of the girl's robes.

Draco propped a strong brow and reached forward to take the letter, but the girl yanked her boy's hand farther and said, "You're gonna *hic* get a kick out of… dis… It's dat …Famous wizard owl boy with da dunder birthmark." She rolled her head back and snorted. Close enough.

Draco snatched the paper and read it quickly, then twice more to sure himself of Potter's scrawled, thin lettering in the light of the fireplace.

He looked up, flustered, at the couple, who weren't paying attention to him anymore. 

Draco stepped over their entangled legs and moved towards the door.

Slytherins' had a knack for getting into trouble, breaking rules, and hooking up anywhere there was space. They also got caught quite a lot, even in the darker hours of night. Draco left the vicinity and moved outside the common room with a push of the door.

If those two had just found this note now, Harry probably meant to see him soon.

Draco hurried down the halls. It must have been the chill of the winter, Draco's increasing age and loss of terror for consequence, or the fat-bellied teachers stuffed to the brim with leftover Christmas food, for the hallways were empty at night. Save for a few confused teenage boys.

Draco briskly walked, his skin so heated that his thin, white, pushed to the forearm undershirt was warm enough. His black pants and boots mixed with the darkness of the halls, but the bright white of his hair, skin, and shirt stood out against the walls and floors.

Where, where, where? Draco thought, clutching the note in his left hand and illuminating the hall with the wand in his right. He was concerned, anxious, afraid, worried, excited, nervous, and insulted all at the same time. Harry wanted to speak to him. About what? His constant teasing? His trespassing?

Or what if… He wanted to talk about that night…

Draco stopped short as both legs tingled with heat and his face erupted with blood rushing to his cheeks. Of course, Draco pondered, That's why he sent me the letter.

Malfoy smiled, began running, stopped again, and frowned.

"Of course not!" He said aloud, before quickly clapping the paper over his mouth. The paper that smelled like straw and spice and dirt… It smelled like Harry…  
The boy became distressed and upset and realized that what he thought was going to happen probably wasn't. The note was probably a joke from that couple to get him to leave so they would be able to have fun…  
Harry probably wouldn't even want to talk about what happened, out of either embarrassment or denial. Or disgust.

Draco moved towards the wall and slumped against it, sliding down it and landing with his head in his hands.  
Will I ever be rid of this feeling? he thought.

Will the boy who lived live inside me forever?


	5. Chapter 5

Draco ran his lean fingers through his bangs. He shuffled the blonde strands then flipped his tie and sleeves. He bit the tip of his nail. He shifted on the wall. He fidgeted. 

'Harry isn't going to meet me,' he thought. Stupid. 

He turned around quickly and slammed his fist into the stone. It was late now, and almost all students were either asleep or in their dorms.  
Only he and the other sneaky children were out.

He pounded his head into the solid surface, rolling his shoulders painfully. He wanted Harry to find him, smile at him… Smile at him as though he forgave him for his petty insults and remembered what happened between them so many weeks ago, smile at him like he felt the same twang of electricity go through his heart when he sought Draco's gaze.

Draco wanted to wrap his arms around Harry so tight that he squeezed all the horror and pain away from his life. He wanted to envelope Harry within himself, wake up to his messy black head on the pillow beside him, play with his wand…

Malfoy slumped against the wall once more, something he did often. The orange light of the hallway torches illuminated Draco's hard countenance and scrunched brow.

The Slytherin's fury caused him to punch the air and he regretfully gave up on waiting for something that was never coming. He turned back the way he came, and headed down to the common room.

Harry called after him, "Draco."

Malfoy's heart leapt up into his throat and he wanted to spin around and run to him, but he just stopped in his tracks and spoke with his back to Harry.

"Why did you want to… see me?"

Harry's fingertips tingled. He wished he could run away, for he feared that he'd be punched on the spot.

"We need to …talk… about what… happened." His voice was low and husky; it trembled with his shaky breath.

The sharp, snake-like boy shivered in a cold sweat. His mind was dissolving. All he saw was red and gold. He turned on his light feet and walked closer to Harry. This was not a movie scene. This was an awkward, uncomfortable silence that was stuffed to the brim with tension.

"Nothing happened."

"Don't say that." Harry gulped away his fear, his green eyes glazing over with misty tears.

Draco stomped forward, his footsteps echoing through the empty hall. It was nearly three in the morning. Malfoy shoved Harry as he caught the electricity in his fingertips as they came in contact with Harry's sharp collarbone.

"Nothing. Happened."

Harry stumbled backwards. He swallowed hard, his throat dry in fright. "Do you want to fight about this? Let's fight. Let's go somewhere. You're being a stubborn prick and this is the first time we even start to talk about it and you're being such a…!"  
Potter's false confidence and biting words hid his fear. His palms sweat as he spat at Draco his next words.

"Follow me."

Harry left in a flush, walking briskly down the halls. He didn't dare look back. He began to jog then run at full sprint, so fast that his black shoes were soundless and they glided across the hallway's floors.

Draco followed.

***********************************************************************************************  
By the time Harry stopped running he had flown out one of the various doors of Hogwarts and was standing in front of the warm, dimly lit Herbology greenhouse. The plants were kept damp and cozy inside during the winter, and Harry knew that once his heart stopped racing the winter chill would cut through his skin.   
He chose a secluded, warm area to confront Draco.

Draco Malfoy panted as he skid to a stop next to Potter. Neither of them spoke a word.

The Forbidden Forest rustled and groaned in the distance. Harry pushed his way through the plastic door and held a strong arm infront of Draco as he kept the door open for him.

Malfoy smiled internally at the gesture, but he composed himself and hurried inside.

Harry took three long breaths as he let the damp earth smell into his lungs. Harry's scent of straw, dust, and dirt fit in here. Malfoy's peppery musk did not, and he bristled at the smell of plants.

The Boy Who Lived glared at Draco with flushed cheeks and malicious eyes. Harry was in heat, both emotionally and physically, but he was sick of being abandoned and wanted to hold on to the newest person in his life.  
He wouldn't let Draco leave him like his parents, Sirius, and his friends had.

Draco's lungs expanded as Harry spoke firmly to him.

"I know that what happened was …wrong," Harry felt that this description didn't do the act justice, yet he continued. "But it DID happen. You and I don't speak, let alone work it out."

"There's nothing to work out. Nothing happened." Draco and Harry both struggled with their words and each of the boy's dialogues were drawn out in agonizing pain and embarrassment.

"You - " Harry had composed his emotions for a good part of the past ten minutes, but this time, he exploded. "You - you treat me like I'm the scum of the earth. You glare at me, ignore me, bully me, and leave whenever I'm near. You can't tell me that nothing happened because you wouldn't be so different if nothing had. You would continue to insult my parents and my friends and even push me around physically. For the better part of a month you haven't at all, save for tonight. I'm done. We either come to terms with the mistake that we made or we continue to be …tortured." Harry spoke with extreme truth. He was tortured by his sexual fantasies that always cut off right before he got an answer for his usual questioning of what he felt.

Harry clenched his fists until his stubby nails drew blood from his palms. His anger and lust combined into red hot fury and before he knew it, he was shouting at Draco with a rasped, low growl.

"Don't pretend like it never happened! I can't even hear your name or a joke about students past curfew without my stomach dropping and my … core… igniting!" Harry's inner voice sneered at his lame choice of words, but Harry just lowered his eyes to the greenhouse floor. Draco was tense and silent. Harry turned around, about to go into more detail. He took a breath and closed his eyes, certain that it'd be easier to say if he pretended like this sex god wasn't standing before him.

Malfoy's blood coursed in his veins and he choked on his dry throat. He took one step forward but it stretched longer than he had anticipated and his feet had carriedand he had flung himself at Harry's back. Draco had wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's middle and pressed his chin into Harry's shoulder.

"Why do you do this to me?!" he cried into Harry's ear. He felt the boy shiver and stiffen but he didn't let go.

"Why do you make me feel like this?!"

Draco buried his wet eyes into Harry's neck and pushed him towards the low tables. Harry, preparing himself to crash into the solid surface painfully, lifted his tightly gripped forearms enough to shove the empty pots out of the boys' way. They crashed and shattered as they flew from the table.

Malfoy pushed him down and pulled Harry's hands behind his back. Draco's face was red with blood and he was crying. He screamed, "You're driving me mad, Potter!" 

Draco, his countenance harsh and furious, shoved Harry into the table so his pelvis pushed against the ledge. Harry groaned.

The blonde boy responded to Harry's noise with a moan of his own, his inner spark shooting down to his groin. He shoved his knee in-between Harry's legs and nudged his member.

All movements became fluid and quick. Like a well oiled machine, the boys sunk deeper into their own pleasures.

Harry grabbed the ledge of the table and closed his eyes. As a sign of consent, Harry spread his legs further apart and pushed himself backward into Draco.

Draco raised a pale brow and smiled devilishly. The angry, confused, closeted boys were divulged in one another destructively, tossing their previous woes aside.

As quickly as Draco had flown into anger and hurt, his tears dried and his skin flushed with the thought of sex. Draco felt a bubble of something new and wrong float into his throat, and his next words escaped his lips with little embarrassment. "Duchess, you're so mean to me." Draco's inner voice cooed the word as if it were liquid in his mind.

Harry snorted. The pain in his heart, legs, and lungs had subsided and had shot directly to his hardening erection. Harry's face lit with the feel of Draco behind him and a sunny presence replaced his gloom. At Draco's words, Harry felt feminine and fragile. Draco called him a girl. Harry shuddered and was aroused at the thought. He responded gayly and passionately.  
"You're one to talk, my queen." 

Draco's grin faltered and he rammed his knee farther between Harry. Draco grabbed Harry's narrow hips and pressed himself into his rear.

Potter's shocked gasp turned into a low hum as he gritted his teeth in pleasure. Draco's hands explored Harry on their own, from his strong bones to the crease in his muscular back. Malfoy grabbed Harry's solid shoulder and pulled him up from the table. Harry held himself up with his hands, his face inches away from a sweet petunia. The damp smell of dirt was now forever connected to the explosion of pleasure Harry felt with each new, untouched spot on him in Draco's delicate, white hands.

Draco's other hand caressed Harry's rump. He groaned at its firm, round shape. He smoothed his palm over Harry's dark pants and slid them under to Harry's front. His fingertips tingled as they came in contact with Harry's bulge but skipped over it tenderly. His knee still pressing Harry's groin into the table, Draco unbuckled the scarred boy's pants. 

He yanked his hand from under Harry and roughly pulled Harry's trousers down, exposing the pale skin of his rear.

Draco exhaled steam and lust. Harry pushed himself up higher and turned around when he felt Draco's grip tighten on his shoulder but his other hand disappear. He craned his neck and twisted his head to see Draco staring down at his are. Harry was nervous and excited about what was going to happen. He had an idea of what would, but he knew that anything that did happen would be mind blowing. Harry had waited for so long...

He heard Draco fidget with his own belt buckle and Harry's breath caught in his throat. He gasped at the thought. Draco lifted his eyes up and met Harry's.

Both boys' chest erupted in an explosion of heat and they pressed their heads closer together, their lips meeting in sweet, blissful release.

Draco's perverse thoughts slipped away as he felt Harry's warm lips guide his mouth and Harry's tongue nip at the opening, asking permission to slide himself inside Draco's mouth. Draco obliged by parting his lips and Harry tongued him longingly. The lecherous attitude was gone as romantic passion burned between the boys. Although neither of them could speak of this feeling, both of them felt the pits of their stomachs drop as each inch of their skin prickle with excitement.

Malfoy let go of his buckle, and his hand soared up to Harry's messy hair, entangling itself in it. He grabbed it forcefully and pressed the Chosen One's face harder into his own. They kissed passionately, their members hardening until they were both so thick and solid that it was painful.

Draco gasped as he pulled himself away from Harry's mouth, their lips wet and shimmering in the dim greenhouse light.

Malfoy locked eyes with Harry through his steamed glasses and asked permission silently to take him. Harry nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He forced it away.

"Duchess…" Draco said again, the words falling through the silent air like feathers. 

Malfoy pulled himself out from his pants and breathed heavily at what he was about to do. He had heard the perverse rumors and jokes about such things, even read a few books mentioning such a thing. He knew that he'd hurt Harry if he forced himself in, but he couldn't bring himself to connect the skin of his penis to the soft surface of Harry's rear.

Harry felt Draco's hesitation and knew that all those dirty, offensive jokes he'd make in the dorms with Dean and Ron were about to become his reality. James Potter's son thrusted his hips backward and collided his skin with Draco's.

The skin of Malfoy's member was soft but its entirety was solid. Although Draco was not connected and melting inside Harry in such a way, their skin touched and Harry began to rub himself on Draco.

Draco's flesh slid up and down Harry's firm rump and he unclenched his fist that had wrinkled Harry's shirt and brought his left hand down from his shoulder and to Harry's cheek. His right hand followed symmetrically. 

Malfoy moaned in tune with Harry as he pushed Harry's lean but muscular rear together and squeezed his shaft between Harry's halves.

The sensation of Draco's shaft sliding over Harry's opening and his soft hair tickling his skin made Harry gasp in pleasure. 

The boys rocked back and forth, sliding, gliding, pushing, pounding, gasping, groaning, breathing, and moaning in the damp greenhouse.

Draco's slimy precum coated Harry's opening and caused both boys to shiver in hot sweat. Draco slid himself between Harry vertically, teasing and stimulating the boy.

"…Mal..foy…" Harry panted. Harry fell down on his elbows and balanced on one arm while he reached between his legs and pulled his own member out. 

Draco noticed this gesture and willingly reached around with one of his hands and grabbed him. His other hand moved from Harry's strong boy hip and up his back. He pushed his shirt up and revealed Harry's contracting muscles.

Malfoy moaned. "…P-Potter…" He quickened his pumping, his shaft skin now coated in both his own sweat and Harry's, as well as his clear precut that seeped out of his bulging head and down his long, tender, peach limb.

Draco felt the pleasure build up inside him with each glide along Harry's valley, and as he began to reach his limit, he scratched Harry's perfect back.

Harry gritted his teach harder and reared his head up at the lovely pain. Draco, still grasping and pumping Harry's member, thrust harder along Harry's firm rear.

Potter continued to hold himself up on the table, which was now shaking under the boys' weight and movements. 

Draco gave the signal to Harry that he was about to finish by digging his nails into the flesh of his back, lurching forward toward's Harry's bobbing head, taking the tip of his ear into his mouth, and sucking it.

Harry also felt the pressure in his stomach increase as he tightened his muscles and began to see stars. He opened his mouth unconsciously to the point where his hot tongue fell out of his swollen lips and dripped saliva in ecstasy. 

Both boys' eyes rolled up into their skulls as they drooled and panted, clutching their fingers into the surface they rested on until their knuckles gleamed white.

Draco wanted to shout his affections for Harry but all that came out was a long 'oh' sound. He pumped more furiously as he peaked in pleasure, sparks shooting from his eyes, his heart vibrating blood through his veins. He orgasmed sharply and ejaculated onto Harry's tailbone. 

At the increase in speed and how Draco squeezed and moaned loudly into his ear, his hot breath dancing on his cheek, Harry felt Draco's sticky substance drip onto his back and his grip tighten around his member and Harry peaked as well, fireworks dancing on the lens of his spectacles, the pressure and tight muscles releasing as he shot his own swirled white liquid onto the table.

The boys' collapsed. Harry fell onto the table, Draco slumped against Harry's back.

They stayed as such for a few minutes as they caught their breath and their hearts calmed. Draco began kissing Harry's cheeks, ears, and neck lightly. Harry lifted himself up as he felt Draco's soft lips trail down his back. He reached a shaky hand up and took off his steamy glasses. He locked eyes with Draco as he looked up from kissing Harry's spinal valley.

Draco took himself away from Harry, the loss of their skin touching causing his heart to cloud over. 

He spun Harry around so he was no longer bent over like a dog but was now leaning against the table. He tucked himself back inside as Harry did the same, and each of the boys fumbled nervously as they zipped and clasped themselves back together. 

Each felt completely released, able to hold off on another fit of lust… at least for a little while. Harry felt himself painfully harden slightly just at the sight of a sweat drenched, flushed Draco buttoning his pants up.

Harry's eyes met Draco's, completely revealed due to the lack of glass.

Draco and Harry stared at each other for what seemed like eternity.

Harry wanted to ask if this meant they could talk about it now, now that there was more than one occurrence.. But he didn't want to jinx his luck at it never happening roughly and spontaneously again.

It was that stopped time between late night and early morning, and the greenhouse was now silent. The masculine groans and the shaking of the table still lingered, but the boys were still now.

Draco opened his mouth to apologize but Harry caught him mid sentence with a kiss. Their lust and passion gave way to romance and Harry's head spun because of it. 

They kissed lightly as they nervously laughed as they used simple cleaning spells to vanish the semen from the table and floor, as well as charming the pots to reseal and set themselves back on the table.

Harry thought, 'Screw it, we need to at least establish a boundary.'

He stopped smiling as he took Draco's hands and looked up at his snake-like yellow-green eyes.

"Are we going to be able to stand each other now? I mean, at school?"

"I don't know," Draco shook his head.

"I don't want it to get so bad that we can't even be near each other."

'Or be together,' Draco hummed in his head.

"I think…" Harry grinned, "Your duchess… can only take so much time away from her queen…" His heavy lids lifted seductively.

"What are you saying, Potter?"

"I think we should continue this sort of thing regularly. We obviously… want… it." Harry wanted it. Harry never wanted to be without it. 

Draco beamed. He definitely wanted it.

"If we stop…" Draco began.

"Then we'll only be tortured and rightly explode." Harry finished.

The damp greenhouse was tense.

"We can't -"

"I know." Harry muttered, "but we don't need to show it to anyone but us. Heh, it's not like we're a couple." Speaking these words seemed foolish to Harry, for he was concluding that they continue to be together sexually. That was the only thing he was sure about. All other emotions clouded up his mind.

Draco couldn't keep himself from sighing and frowning. He looked down. His sadness seeped through his rough, emotionless countenance.

The boys were still holding hands, neither of them bothered by it. Harry was leaning on the table and Draco crossed his legs and rolled his sore shoulders as the black-haired, green-eyed boy spoke with pursed lips.

"You don't want us to be one… Right?"

Draco darted his eyes back up. He wanted to say no and yes at the same time. He assumed that Harry didn't feel the same affections as he, but he was aware that if there was a time to speak them, it was now.

"I don't know." 

Malfoy was silent. He kissed Harry again.

"I just know I like to do that and that if I don't get to for long amounts of time I go mad."

Harry stood up, took his hands away from Malfoy's, and embraced him entirely. They hugged and Harry kissed Draco's neck with plump, pink lips.

"Me too," the boy whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry found himself once again in his bed. He lie on his back, knees bent, heels digging into the scarlet blanket. His heavily lidded eyes glazed over as he studied each mark on the ceiling above him carefully. A twirl, a straight line, an "S" shape, and a leaf.   
He counted to 62. Blonde bangs flashed in his memory when he hit 58.  
He could feel the weight of legs as they slowly fell asleep, numb in his still position. Harry Potter shifted his arms below his head, his shaggy black mop entangling his slender fingers. Harry replayed what the Slytherin boy had done to him, how his plump, pale lips had suckled on the tender skin of Harry's neck and ear. Draco had bent him over in a completely vunerable position, and Harry had let him.   
Harry counted to 15, but 16 was broken by the sharp twang in his groin as Harry recognized the faint smell of plants and dirt. He turned his head to the left, the muscles in his neck jumping back to life. One of Ron's potted plants was on the beside nightstand between their beds, emitting a damp smell. Harry gritted his teeth in order to subside the memory of the greenhouse. 

Harry awoken his nerves as he sat up painfully. His growth spurts caused his long legs to ache as he rolled his spine and stretched his arms out. He cracked his neck and rustled his bangs. He couldn't help but bite his lip at the thought of the damp, warm table that he was pressed against the night before. The two boys could have been walked in on or watched, and that realization alone caused Harry's cheeks to ignite in heat. He bit down harder when his stomach dropped like it had on contact with Draco's alabaster skin. His blood rushed from up his legs as he fondly recounted how Draco's fingers had kept a strong grip on his shoulder as he…

The Boy Who Lived folded himself over as he rested his head in his hands in regret. He was conflicted when thinking of Malfoy. His body responded so clearly to the thought, but his mind did not.

The Gryffindor had made a list of what he felt. On one half, what he knew he should feel towards Malfoy (or rather, how the other students saw Malfoy) and on the other, how much Draco turned him on, to put it plainly.  
All words on his list regarded the physical act. The wet kisses, the squeezing, the rubbing. His list regarded all the thoughts that arose from his orgasm, how the greens and browns of the Herbology greenhouse turned orange and red as he released in a spike of pleasure.

Harry was relieved that he and Draco had spoken of the act, and how they were most likely going to continue. Unfortunately, Harry was upset that he felt sexually attracted to the other boy, while something inside told him that he also felt more. Harry couldn't put a name on it.. Harry's ignorance and confusion left him hating his own mind. He wished the designs on his ceiling spelled out what he was feeling. With short, simple, easy to understand words. Just plain. Straight. Black and white.

Potter's temples were sore and tight from his relentless attempts to figure it out. He had no words. He couldn't choose them. He couldn't find them. He couldn't even bring himself to say them.

He had closed himself off from ever using too powerful of words when regarding relationships. Words had meaning. Voldemort was just a word, and all magical people were afraid of its power.  
The words lust, fire, passion, sex, and salt passed through his mind, while Draco turned over in his bed with words like boyfriend rattling through his mind.

*************************************************************

Draco had barely slept as he stayed up in his dorm room writing sappy poetry and short passages. His entire body itched and tingled when he tried to sleep, so he grabbed a quill and some parchment from his bedside drawer and wrote.  
In the dark dormitory, Malfoy's scowl had faded and stretched grin that revealed his big, white teeth replaced it. His pale skin reddened and his eyes sparkled like light grey diamonds when he glided his hand across the parchment hastily. It only had been one full day since the incident, but Draco's night was stuffed to the brim with heat and restlessness. Much like his head.

Although Ron assumed Harry's isolation was due to what they had talked about previously, Malfoy's roommates and fellow Slytherins noticed Draco's improved mood and teased him about being a pansy. Ironically enough, Pansy Parkinson was the one to do so.

Draco disregarded them. He fluttered, flew, and flushed as he thought how Harry was sleeping in the same house as he, just up the staircase. The day following their encounter was not unlike how he felt now, completely terrified of how happy he was. Just the thought of Harry's words  
Malfoy even was caught dancing around his dorm room, white-blonde hair puffing up with the warm air as a result of his spinning. 

The Slytherin felt that all this common vernacular and conversational diction couldn't express his joy properly, so he scrawled with a sharp, scratchy quill late at night how he felt. He attempted his best romantic voice. His Old English was anything but correct. He switched verb forms and screwed up the dialect, but Malfoy didn't care. These words had come from somewhere below his ribs, and smiled greatly at the thought that someone could make him feel something. He never dared crumple up one writing, despite his lack of confidence in its quality.  
Draco sat back on his bed now, muttered "Lumos," at his wand, and reread one of his passages. 

Thine eyes melt words that trickle from thy lips, like fevered satin, arising heat from me. Mine own heart thrashes against its cage, while thine pumps crimson blood red in thine cheeks. A rose could never prick me with such force as thy have. My brow hath furrowed, a turned cheek in harshness, broken spirit; thy saved me. Thy hath shown me how to smile, mine teeth so brilliant against tempered skin. That flesh that contains me, that flesh that thy hath kissed. Impassioned scarlet mine fingers did trail on thine flesh. I scream out for thy, but thy cannot hear me. I have found thy. Mine own eyes hath imbibed thy, tasted thy, embraced thy. Our heat and salt stays dark while mine own thoughts lighten it. Thou sayeth it be wrong.Cut me, burn me, scar me, I want thy to mark me with thine's love. Love. Thine's love. I say such things with hopes that thy familiarizes with such a word, but darkness engulfs mine heart since thy doth not. Those who bore thy, made of thine own flesh, hathn't breathed enough breaths to speak it. Thou dothn't hear that word. May I speaketh it to you? I shan't. Not yet. Am I mad!? Of course this isn't love! Love does not exist. Especially not after two rounds of sex…

Draco snorted. Way to keep it classy. Draco took the quill from behind his ear and scratched out that last part.

Am I mad?! I mustn't speaketh that to thy yet. We agreed to continue our passions, we agreed. 

Oh, woe is me! I am fawning over this black haired boy! His eyes are green as forests and his lips are soft and pink as roses. He has seven freckles across his nose and he has long, thick lashes. 

Draco twitched, That's not the only thing that's long and thick.

He continued to read but became disappointed in his lack of writing skills. He decided to start a new one. No Old English this time.

Malfoy's hand had cramped up when he changed positions in bed. He massaged it as he fondly remembered touching Harry's firm arse in a similar fashion. Once the pain subsided, Draco rubbed his eyes and began to write again, the tip of the quill scratching pleasantly across the beige parchment.

This time, he was going to let it flow.

I know that you are not the right one to be with. Our relationship in the past has been anything but pleasant. We fought and teased and spoke harshly to one another. I even hated you. I thought you were a prick.   
Then Christmas time came around and I felt lonely. I was lonely and vulnerable and you ran into me in the hallway on your way back from The Mirror of Erised.   
You looked so broken. Handsome, but broken. I know that your walls are up very high because of how hurt you've been in the past. And I know that only an old madman like Dumbledore can get you to open up, but I've tried, haven't I? No. I haven't. Not at all.  
We sat in the library a few weeks before it happened. Apart, but together. Ron was talking about what he was getting for Christmas, as was Hermione, and I could see in your eyes from across the room… you wished you were getting a package from your family.   
So naturally, you must have been giddy when Molly Weasley sent you those old childrens' stories. You probably clutched them as if they were read to you when you were four or five.   
I feel like you've always loved to read. Not for school, but on your own time. I think that is wonderful. I think you are witty and intelligent and adorable for reading. Your nose in a book about magical beasts like Aragog.   
Yes, I know about Aragog. You're not the only student who knows Hagrid, you hear?   
You act like you're the only one who knows all the secrets of the school, but I do, too. That's why I was wandering around at night.   
Harry.  
Harry, there are so many reasons for me not to fall for you. There are girls that are falling for you harder, there are expectations you need to live up to…   
And I'm just Draco. I'm Lucius Malfoy's son. Hell, I'm even thinking of becoming… No, this isn't a time for that.  
This isn't a time for Voldemort or Sirius or even Fawkes. I know you consider Dumbledore a grandfather or something, but… This year… Can this year not be about saving the world?  
No ministry… No Death Eaters… No Expelliarmus… Please.  
Harry. You were sitting in the library with your head down, you were working on some Charms work… You looked so beautiful.  
No, you ARE so beautiful. I see behind your walls. I see your beauty. You're so handsome. Dark hair and white shirt pushed up to the forearms.   
I started wearing mine like that because you did.  
And I didn't even like you then.  
Then. When is then?  
Before we kissed? Before we pleasured each other?

Draco chuckled. He didn't know what to call it.  
His roommates who had entered when he was writing were knocked out cold, snoring loudly.  
Malfoy returned to writing, his long legs crossed under the green and silver blanket.

They say that being intimate with someone makes everything complicated, and I always disregarded it.  
There are no feelings involved if you planned on there being none.

But then we happened.

And the most insecure part of me was opened up for you. You took everything that no girl had ever gotten to, as much as Pansy tried… You touched me, and since nothing happened with us after, I felt like a prick!  
I did!   
They say only pricks and buggers get with people and leave them. I left you. I was cold towards you.  
We didn't talk for so long. How was I to know what to do? My head isn't strong around you, Potter. I'm weak and foolish and I complain and lash out but that's because I'm afraid.  
I'm so afraid of how much I feel for you… How I want to capture your wet mouth with my own and press you against a wall, while at the same time, I want to hear you talk about your books.  
I want you to be excited and smitten with me. I want you to see the way the sun catches in my eyes or the way my shoes sound in the halls.   
Harry, I want you. I want all of your complications and expectations. I don't want everyone to know about us unless they saw it as a good thing.  
I shouldn't care what they'd think, but I do. Two seventh years received your note when you slipped it to me. They were fooling around like we had in the past.  
A boy and a girl are allowed to be together like that. But we're not.  
It's bloody stupid of me to say but I know we wouldn't be accepted.  
Bloody hell, Potter! I'm making it seem like we're going to date, or something.  
Do you even want to?  
I do. I want you to be all mine. I want to reform you from the boy that everyone knows to the boy that's mine. I want to touch everything on you and stare at you without embarrassment.   
Should I just tell you that I want to be with you? We barely spoke of it.  
Harry, what is happening to me? A month ago, I was angry and bitter and resentful towards you. And then I snapped.   
I guess I always knew that something like that would happen with us. At least, I wanted it to.   
Up against the wall, Harry. Push me up against the wall again. 

I want you.

Draco rolled up his parchment, put a simple spell on it so nobody could open it, stuck it in the drawer with its quill and drifted off to sleep. He understood now. He understood.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco Malfoy opened his grey eyes slowly, his eyelashes pulling apart, his view focusing on his surroundings.

His eyelids were tender with lack of sleep and winced as he turned his head to the shining sun. His legs rustled under the warm blankets as he shifted and awoke. 

The first image that cascaded into his mind was Harry. Draco sat up, carefully checking that his dorm mates were still asleep. 

He touched all the crevices in his face, prodded at his cheekbones and scratched his jaw. 

The skin in between his brows furrowed and he popped his wrists and ankles with a releasing rotation. His body rolled and stretched out to its full length on top of his mattress.

Malfoy felt itchy and hot, but he had a sincere feeling something amazing had happened in the past few hours. He regretfully rolled into a sitting position and placed his feet on the chilly floor.   
Awakening somewhat, Draco recalled what he had seen so vividly seconds before.

Remembering quickly, Draco linked the Boy Who Lived with the scenes unfolding in his head.

 

They were walking down the halls, their shoes shuffling on the stone floor. The boys' elbows brushed and tingled as they bounded in slow rhythm to The Mirror of Erised. Draco had watched Harry's strong profile in the flickering dashes of light from the hallway torches as they passed. 

His reflective glasses; his fluffed, messy, raven hair; his gleaming green eyes that sparkled with orange from the flames; his plump lips that he'd been biting worriedly; and his pointed nose and chin.  
Draco could see himself walking beside the nervous boy. Draco's light hair shone nearly silver and his nose was perked and round, as was his chin. Draco never took his grey gaze off of Harry.

"Don't be worried," Draco cooed. "It'll happen."  
"But I'd only be seeing them before… It probably hasn't changed." He and Harry rounded a corner and spotted the hidden door that was home to the magical mirror. They balked before entering and turned toward each other.  
"It'll happen. Then we can prove it." Malfoy counted the same seven freckles on the bridge of Harry's nose, the sharp, inward sloped jaw that left his moist mouth parted slightly. Harry's thickly lashed dark eyes stared him down nervously, his prominent black brows squeezing together in anguish. Harry's hair was so untamed that Draco barely ever saw his scar. Now, he did. And it was illuminated by the orange glow, in all its glory. It was a mark of fame, a rough, bumpy lighting shaped line above Harry's right eyebrow.

Malfoy raised one hand through the air silently, took Harry's chin between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled Harry's head towards his. He moved in and the space between their lips escaped. The soft, warm, cushioned feel of the boy's mouth comforted Potter's worry, and he pulled back with a tight smile.

He reached across Draco's torso and opened the door to The Mirror. The boys shuffled in and made their way to the grand figure.

The Slytherin smirked at the Gryffindor. He stepped up. His reflection, tall, pale, and slim, stared back at him. He took a breath and closed his heavily lidded eyes. When he opened them, Harry was standing beside him in the reflection. Draco grinned. He turned back and nodded to Harry, who was far behind him.

The Gryffindor took Draco's place and brushed by him, the close vicinity arousing Draco.

Harry breathed as his partner had before him, and closed his eyes. The figure of the taller, somewhat more masculine, dark boy was joined by his parents. Harry's eyes popped open and instantly began to sting with tears.   
Suddenly, he turned back around, all gloom vanished, and said to Draco, "I saw them again. I knew I would. You really think I'd see you in The Mirror? You're such a fool, Malfoy!" A devilish grin spread across Harry's face and his golden, flushed skin turned dark, and his eyes burned red. His teeth sharpened and he lunged at Draco terrifyingly. Harry's change was so quick that Malfoy felt a jolt of shock run through his legs and into his heels. Harry attacked the frightened boy, looming large over him as Draco shrunk with each morbid tear.

 

Malfoy remembered now, it was just a dream. A dream turned to nightmare. He put his head in his hands and he hunched over onto his knees, his feet now pressed numbly into the floor.   
How horrible… Draco thought.

He played the scene again through his mind as he made his way painfully to the showers. Although he preferred baths to showers, he wanted to stand and let the hot water steam the nightmare away.

The shared bathroom in the boys dormitory was decorated like the rest of Slytherin house. Silver, white, green, and black tiles lined the floors and walls, while the sink was pure and clean with intricate silver carvings of snakes at running along the edge, faucet, and handles. The grand, green rimmed mirror reflected just Draco this time, the delicious image of the two boys standing side by side left as a fleeting memory in Draco's mind. Draco had forgotten his wand in his bedside table, so he manually locked the bathroom and set about stripping down.

He watched himself in the mirror as he pulled off yesterday's dress shirt that he'd fallen asleep in, as well as usual black pants and black socks. Draco's pale skin stretched tightly over his thin hips and lean muscles.

Draco was proud of how he looked because he worked for it. He went on runs over summer vacation and horsed around in the courtyard during Quidditch practice. He also liked to work on his arms and core when the other boys in his dorm were out. 

Although he and Harry were both fit, Draco looked fragile and almost made of China, while Harry had taken the opportunity of leaving the cupboard under the stairs to work on muscle and strength.   
Harry was slightly thicker in his biceps, chest, thighs, abs, and arse, but both boys gleamed and shone with a teenage agility that was cause for much jealously among older men. 

Draco prodded at his abs and arms and flexed. His thin neck caused his columns to protrude when he turned his head, as well as keep his jawline tight and sharp.

Another cause for pride was Draco's member. He hadn't necessarily been ashamed of its size in the past, but he definitely was not ashamed of it now - seeing as it brought "him" so much pleasure.  
Malfoy's naked reflection looked puzzled as his mind traced back over his emphasis on the word "him." 

It made sense that Draco would associate all thoughts as such with one person, but having the pronoun be "him" rather than "them" or "her" puzzled him. He brushed it away as he stepped into the shower and turned the water from cold to nearly scalding.

As steam rose off his sharp shoulders, Draco chuckled at the story of the shower rebellion a few years ago. Baths were nice, but since the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, many students had taken that "I could die tomorrow" motto and channeled that energy into school revolutions. 

Those who had come from muggle families helped fuel this fire, for they wanted a means to bathe other than the ancient baths. A few of the teachers had showers in their possession, but the students protested for them in their dorms and rooms. Finally, a single shared bathroom was erected in each of the dormitories. All years now had them, and the issue was put to rest.

Draco scrubbed his body with soap and cleaned under his fingernails. He had been masked in the musk of teenage boy and plants. Only just last night had they been together again. 

Unfortunately, his late night writing had caused him to lose sleep, and all of this happened in the middle of the week, so he had to drag himself to class once again.

Now, it wouldn't be so bad, since he had cleared some things up with Harry. 

As he soaked his porcelain skin in the nourishing water, he recalled all of the events that led up to the greenhouse incident. He had found a note from Harry, ran the length of the hallway, stumbled upon Harry, fought with him, screamed at him, took him and called him "Duchess."

Draco cringed and stopped playing with the water droplets on his skin as he embarrassingly remembered. He had really done that. How dumb. 

He grinned when Harry responded with something equally as degrading. 

Malfoy became aware of the time and ended his shower. 

He took his green towel off the shared rack and dried his skin and hair.

He dressed, sighed, and collected his books for his classes.

*******************************************************************************************************

Harry wandered around Hogwarts along with the other students as they jostled into the grand hall for breakfast. Harry had rubbed the sleep from his eyes on the way to the table, and he hadn't bathed. He took a deep breath of the smells of bacon, eggs, and toast, and caught another smell of plant off his skin.

The boy darted his eyes around the loud, bustling crowd in search for his guy. When he didn't show, Harry scooted down next to Hermione sullenly. 

As he began to butter his bread, he saw a figure come in after everyone was sitting. 

Harry looked up and smirked at the boy walking to the Slytherin table, fresh, clean, and ready to take on the day.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco poked at his breakfast with disinterest. He rustled his bangs and shifted his tie. His mind trickled over the words he had written on the pages early that morning, the one particular word that he had crossed out, seeing as it was too formal and rash to use in such a situation as this.

Harry darted through the corners of Draco's mind, peeked from behind his grey eyes and danced on his brain. Goyle's words finally broke the barrier of Draco's daydream and he heard a muffled, sloppy, "Wouldja pass the salt?" come from his right side.

Draco's pale hand mindlessly reached in front of him and passed it over, his gaze still locked on his meal. Snapping back into reality with the sounds of Goyle's messy munching, Draco attempted to hide his blush when he remembered that Harry sat just across the hall.

The Slytherin darted his eyes up carefully to the Gryffindor table, eager to see that messy mop of raven hair.

Harry laughed at Ron's joke then dropped his own gaze back to his lap in silence.

Draco looked away from Harry right as Harry looked up at Draco.

They continued this game for the rest of breakfast, as well as in the halls on the way to class.

They had a class together today, some special teacher was coming in to describe love potions.

Upon entering the room, Harry sat down with Hermione and Ron at one of the wooden desks and sighed while he counted to three in hopes of keeping his wandering eyes still for a few seconds.

Draco caught sight of the back of Harry's head, and his heart leapt into his throat as he took the desk in the other row. Crabbe and Goyle squished beside him, but Draco was oblivious as he watched the way Harry's shoulders rose when he breathed and how his jaw tightened when Hermione insulted Ron's dirty spellbook.

The professor hurried into the class late, her purple robes fluttering behind her. The Love Potion Specialist had long, dark hair that stuck straight to her head and fell sleekly between her breast and elbow when she stood regally at the front of the room, attempting to catch her breath.

She introduced herself, but neither Harry nor Draco caught her name as Harry finally found Draco and locked eyes with him for a split second before darting away and pretending to scribble notes.

The tall, slim professor droned on about the dangers of the potion and its effects, as well as when it is appropriate and when it is not.

Draco tuned in when she began talking about what love was made out of chemically, and, recalling his foolish use of the word in his previous letter to Harry, Draco shot his hand up and asked a question, oblivious to the snickers and stares he received from both his housemates and the students of the rival house.

"When is it okay to call something love?" Draco's dry lips coated the words with sweet innocence, and he instantly flushed as he caught the light skin of Harry's face appear from under dark hair out of the corner of his eye.

The professor grumbled at being interrupted, but was amused that someone was following. She attempted to give her best answer.

"Well, I would assume it would be okay to call something love when you feel that it is love." 

"But what if you don't know?" The students giggled some more, fascinated by the coldest boy in school's fascination with love.

"Why wouldn't you know?" 

Draco continued to flush as his personal experience nearly became the example, but he just slunk down into his seat, folded his arms, and swallowed hard before responding.

"Because sometimes you don't," he kept the professor's gaze, aware that Harry was staring at him more intensely than the other students, who were trembling with suppressed laughter.

"You know that you feel something for …a girl… but you don't want to label it as anything more than it is," Draco began to rant, the giggles of the classroom soon turning to surprised gasps, "You know that you blush around them and think about them and even want to be standing by them all the time but you don't want to jump to any… conclusions… and you definitely don't want to scare them off by calling it something it's not." Draco gulped his words down again.

"I understand that, but why do you think you'd scare them off? Do they not have the same feelings?" The professor pried a more personal answer out of Draco with her question, but he was adamant to keep it vague.

"I'm not sure…" The class had now gone completely silent as they recognized the fear in the usual stoney face that Draco had worn all of his life.

"Can't you ask her?"

"I would sound stupid."

"But that's why love is so complicated, m'dear… There will always be that fear of sounding stupid, being rejected. You need to take the risk and fight for what you love, or think you love, for that matter." The tall woman winked at Draco and continued on with the lesson, branching out from the idea that loss of fear and reality are one of the cautious side effects of a love potion.

The class resumed to its noisy murmur and fell silent, picking his nails and pulling at the skin on his knuckles.

His face had finally calmed, but as he looked up to find Harry's face, this time, Harry was gazing right back at him, immediately sparking a loud, full blush to crawl back under Draco's skin.

*******************************************

The next class was Charms. The professor spoke with ease and pointed to the board with quick motions. He'd scrawl some charms on the board and the entire class would shift into a hunch and scribble down the same word on their own notes.

Professor Flitwick called on Hermione to answer questions, picked on Neville, and laughed at Seamus. He kept the class engaged in a soft rhythm, dull, but constant.

His short stature did not affect him, and as he stood on his platform, he taught with ease and excitement, though the students were less than giddy.

Flitwick's lecture droned into Draco's ears and he constantly glanced into the front right corner at Harry.

Harry counted how many times Flitwick muttered "See here" in his transitions, but after he hit thirty seven, he turned to his left and caught Draco indulging in him again. Draco blushed and looked away, tightening in his seat.

Harry snorted then balked mid laugh when he recalled the tightness of Draco's grip on him as he was pushed into the table. He shifted in his seat, rearranging his member as it swelled.

Draco noticed this movement and came out of his embarrassed stupor with a smirk, sure that Harry had reacted to one of Flitwick's accidental sexual innuendos.

Harry and Draco both waited until the class ended, eager to run back to their rooms for a break and a helpful release of sexual frustration.

"…and that's why you never want to plug the hole too much, it won't work as well that way. Okay class, it seems our time is up. Your homework is to charm a plant into blooming for you. Bring a plant in two days to demonstrate to the class. Use the techniques I've showed you here today. Your notes will help. See you later, class! And don't catch a cold in this weather!"

Flitwick was correct in his predictions of the weather. The late winter air had chilled and tiny snow flurries drifted around the grand castle.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco found Harry again that night, wandering the halls, as usual. The boys were wearing their cloaks as the evening chilled more than the days, and the castle's hallways were stone, which let the cold seep in.

This time, it wasn't as awkward to speak. Both boys did not voice exactly what they had on their minds: Draco's personal humiliation about what happened in class and his regret in writing down that he might love Harry, and Harry's extreme need to be with Draco again in a sexual way.

The boys walked in the shadows and spoke of their classes, their teachers, their friends, their drama, their food, their winter clothes, and even which girls they thought had crushes on them. The conversed like best friends, easily switching from one topic to the next, a first for both of them, since all they had said before were words of anger.

"No, no, I get that, but I mean, which of the couples in your house do you think will stay together past their seventh year?" Draco's cheeks tightened into a grin.

"Well," Harry began, "Ron and Hermione aren't a couple, but we all know that they're going to end up together. He talks about her all the time, and she's not so subtle either. He was actually telling me how much she means to him the other night. It was refreshing, given their constant bickering."

Draco was caught in the way Harry's lips moved as they said "What about Slytherin?"

"…Oh," the boy with grey eyes caught himself, "I want to say that couple that found your note, but they're seventh years already, so it doesn't really count. I mean, it might-"

"-Wait, they found my note?"

The boys had circuitously eluded the subject of any of the times they'd been together, including the actions that led up to it.

"Yeah, they were bloody wasted though, so I don't think they remember."

"But you do…" Harry whispered. 

Draco wanted so badly to talk to him about their strange relationship. He wanted to ask him if they were best friends with a sexual attraction or if they just lunged at each other when they were frustrated. He wondered if he loved him, or if he loved …him…

Malfoy pushed the thought out through the tips of his soft silver hair and just flashed a sneer-like smile Harry's way. Attempting to be smug, he said, "Of course I do. I remember everything."

James's son caught on to Draco's game as they had been spending so much time trying to figure each other out. "Do you remember the first time we did something sexy?"

Malfoy's hot breath hitched in his stomach, he had just looked up at Harry's wonderfully sharp face as Potter's lips caressed the last word of his question with every ounce of sexual tension in the grand Hogwarts castle to be found by naughty students.

This may have been the first time the boys verbally acknowledged their sultry acts, and Draco's tight groin nearly stopped him from responding.

"Yes…" he croaked, watching with intensity as Harry dipped into a dark corner and leaned against the wall, his green eyes smoldering with passion.  
Draco's grey eyes swirled with fascination and timidness, and Harry's own coil nearly snapped when he looked upon Draco's round, adorably innocent face. Harry hoped to contort his sweet countenance into a vicious, heated expression of pure pleasure and release. 

Harry licked his lips before he spoke, "How did we even come about that, again? Were you the one to catch my step in between your legs?"

Draco was now being toyed with Harry, his maroon and black draped figure pushed against the wall, one thin hands ruffling his dark hair while the other smoothed the front of his robes down, his slender fingers gracefully trailing on his chest.

The hallway was silent, save for the crackling of the torches, for Draco was caught in the trail of Harry's hand and did not answer. He found himself again and propped himself up, now standing taller than Harry's slumped figure. He cleared his throat, "Yes, yes I was the one to initiate it…"

The boys did not take their gaze from the other as Harry huskily said while subtly spreading his thighs inches apart, "What are you waiting for?"

Instantly triggered by Harry's slight movement, Draco pushed himself onto the young man, wedging his knee up into Harry's crotch. 

Harry tasted Draco and responded justly, pulling on the Slytherin's lips with his teeth and running his hands up and down his back and neck.

The boys continued to capture each other's mouths in the hallway, which, as usual, was deserted. Draco was blissfully reaching every corner of Harry: from the hard muscle of his thighs to the tender skin of his cheek.

Harry groaned into Draco's mouth as he felt his groin tighten with the pressure of Draco's knee. Malfoy pulled back and flashed a seductive glance at Harry, unwavering his gaze from the boy as he plunged his right hand down into Harry's pants. The other hand slid up Harry's shirt, under his robe, feeling each ripple in his hard body with excitement.

Potter moaned and gasped, Draco's hand wrapping around his length and quickly jerking it. The pale haired boy continued to pump with such enthusiasm that Harry reached his release within minutes, exploding into the crevices of Draco's fingers. 

The hot substance dripping down Draco's hand only caused his desire to increase, and disregarding Harry's apologies, he pushed his mouth into Harry's and battled his tongue with his own. 

Harry's release had come so quickly and sharply to him that all of his spontaneous sexual urges seemed to come together at a point as he pulled Draco's hand out from between his hips and twirled him around so Draco was the one leaning against the stone wall. Draco began to speak but was interrupted by a terrifyingly seductive kiss to the neck.

The boy with green eyes slowed his movements as he tremulously came down off of his high, the sounds of his own moans still ringing in the rims of his glasses. He readjusted his pants and his fully satisfied member as he took each square inch of Draco's porcelain skin in his mouth like a fragile tuft of cotton candy. Potter trailed his swollen lips from Draco's ear down to his collar, never stopping for the pleasured gasps that his boy let slip. Harry's hands roamed Draco's body, completely exploring the tight muscles that contracted and quivered through Draco's clothes.

As Potter slowly aroused Draco with his gentle touches and sweet lips, he felt completely at home… satisfying Draco.

The Slytherin, on the other hand, was lost in a hazy fantasy world where the view of Harry's sharp brows and scar were the only things he could see as he looked down at his stomach, the light pecks that jumped from Harry's plump lips causing him to lose his mind slowly, leaving his sexual organ not only pleading for Harry, but his entire body calling to be touched more.

Finally, Harry made it to Draco's crotch, where his member was straining at the seams. He kissed the bulge lightly, nipping at the fabric with his white teeth. Harry's hands had grabbed Draco's rear, and as he nuzzled Draco more tenderly, Draco pulled him up from his knees and whispered between moans, "No… it has to be fair. Don't do that yet."

Harry understood, and with a slide of his right and left hands around Draco's sturdy but thin hips, they met in the middle and tormented Draco as the pair of hands tingled and danced with Draco's clothed erection.

The next twenty or so minutes were filled with Harry teasing, nipping, kissing, licking, biting, touching, pumping, and jerking Draco slowly, building up the pressure to a very fine peak, rather than the quick release he usually sought by himself.

Draco, the tender, emotional boy was now the one being treated as royalty by the brash, horny Harry Potter.

When Malfoy finally released, it was into Harry's palm and it continued to spill for nearly two seconds, a steady stream. Harry carefully pulled his hand from the hot, steamy vicinity of Draco's member and tasted his sweetness by suckling on his fingers and licking his palm.

The boys, now learning how to please the other, rather than the harsh angry sex they'd attempted in the past, cleaned up by kissing and embracing until all the moisture and sweat and warmth from their encounter seeped from their robes and into the cold winter air.

They walked back to their dorms, discussing the experience with loud blushes. They did not hold hands, but continuously shoved the other with their shoulders.

If you had seen them walking together, you'd of thought they were pugnacious mates. When in reality, Draco and Harry were both spinning with the excitement and worry of what they'd gotten themselves into, the taste of the other still trailing off the tips of their tongues.


End file.
